


Waves on a Distant Shore

by Edoraslass



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-17
Updated: 2013-03-17
Packaged: 2017-12-05 13:41:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/723913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Edoraslass/pseuds/Edoraslass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They meet in taverns; they meet in corners of dark, flea-ridden inns where no-one can see their faces.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Waves on a Distant Shore

~*~

_There_ , he gasps. _Yes,just like that._

They don’t talk much, and neither one is surprised by this. They have little in common– he’s a disgraced officer of His Majesty’s Navy; she’s a former slave and pirate. It would be far more surprising if they could carry on an idle conversation.

 _Oh, God._ Her voice is barely audible. _Please…please…_

They meet in taverns; they meet in corners of dark, flea-ridden inns where no-one can see their faces. There are times when they can’t wait to find a bed and they simply fall on one another in a shadowed alleyway, hands slipping past cloth and across tender, yearning flesh.

 _AnaMaria…I can’t…_ Only when need is peaking do they use names. Names aren’t necessary; names don’t say everything that needs to be said; names say everything that will never be spoken between them.

_James. James, yes - James._

Occasionally, they try to talk, as if they’re just two friends who’ve happened upon each other by chance in a wild, angry port.

“I wouldn’t drink that brew; tis said it’ll addle a man’s brain and next he knows, he’s chained in the cell of an Indian maharajah. Best keep to rum.”

“I’ve heard rumour of a great beast from the deep, stalking unsuspecting ships. Superstition and fancy, I imagine, but it could not hurt to keep a weather-eye. More things in heaven and earth and all that.”

“He’s not been ‘round here in a while. I’d stop askin’, if I was you. Only bringin’ attention to yourself.”

“Yes, thank you, but you’ve no more caution than I in this, have you?”

Those attempts at conversation don’t last long; they’re only postponing the inevitable. Neither one is entirely certain why they even try; perhaps it’s an attempt to draw out the wanting, to heighten the desire. It’s not needed - every step on the stair up to a dingy rented room is foreplay enough; every breathless gasp and lingering touch of mouth to skin brings already-heated blood to a boil.

 _There_ , he gasps. _Yes,just like that_ , and she relents, taking him into her mouth as he buries his hands in her hair and rises against her until he’s lost.

 _Oh, God_. Her voice is barely audible. _Please…please…_ and he obeys, sinking thrusting falling into her as she writhes beneath him.

 _AnaMaria_. Her name, torn from his throat, is both a plea and a cry for more.

 _James._ She cries his name like a blessing even as her sharp nails tear at his flesh; she cries his name like waves crashing on a distant shore.


End file.
